Hope is a Four Letter Word
by Kolbie Ru-Ru
Summary: [Make that money; watch it burn.] This is simply a series of drabbles, one for every letter of the alphabet. Team 7-centric.
1. Anniversary, Bitter, Counting Stars

**Notes: There are spoilers for everything (or there will be as I continue.)**

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**A is for Anniversary (because one does not simply ****_forget_****.)**

The rain pounds relentlessly, soaking through his jounin vest and the clothes underneath with ease, but Kakashi does not notice—Or, rather, he cannot bring himself to care. It's been thirteen years since he sentenced Obito to a premature death, but even now, Kakashi feels the Uchiha's accusing gaze burning holes into his shivering body, hears the mocking, sarcastic jeers, sees his teammate's broken, bleeding body crushed beneath the unforgiving earth because he'd been stupid enough to value _Kakashi's life_ above _his own_.

What is a little rain and the likely cold to follow when compared to _such_ _sacrifice_?

He buries his hands deeper into his pockets, visible eye never straying from the monument though he is far, far away by now. He is younger, less aware of the world's evils, relishing an old argument with his comrades that will only ever exist in his memories now because Kakashi is and always will be nothing more than a failure.

The Sandaime calls it Survivor's Guilt. Kakashi calls bullshit. The_ God of Shinobi_ tells him he should think himself lucky, should live on as his team's legacy, as if that's what they would _want_ him to do. Kakashi rather thinks that on this, the old man has it all wrong. Murderers don't carry on legacies, after all.

They repent.

The only reason Kakashi does not simply end his own life and join the others is because he must repent by _living_. And if ANBU missions have the highest death rates, and he just so happens to take on the most dangerous ones, well, all the better to protect the village.

It is well into the night when he finally breaks free _(butheisnevertrulyfree) _and bids his old team farewell until tomorrow, and the rain continues to pour on.

**B is for Bitter (because he cannot handle the ****_regret_****.)**

He is slumped listlessly against the gritty wall, eyes devoid of life, his informant having long abandoned him there, but Sasuke can only focus on the words _(yourbrother-ahero-sacrificedhimself-lovedyou-fornothing) _circling uselessly through his mind, unable to truly comprehend the severity of the situation, unable to _cope_ because if he—

_DON'T. Oh God, please don't_

lets himself think about it, what it all boils down to is—

_I don't want to _know_. Don't even want to _think

he killed—

_my brother. killedmybrother. _I_killed_my_brother_

his brother, his precious, precious _brother_.

_whathaveidonewhathaveidonewhathaveidonewhathaveidone_

He cannot handle the **regret**; Sasuke is many things—

_monstermonster**youmonster**_

but 'strong' has never been one of them.

_weakweakyouaresoweakandworthless_

Strong shinobi don't lose their precious people, after all.

**_weaksoweakgoodfornothing_good_for_nothing**

But if nothing else, he has the ability to turn his anger and hatred into ambition.

_whatgoodthatdidwhatgoodit'sdone_

He _will_ have his vengeance.

**C is for Counting Stars (because they've been praying _hard_.)  
**

He quirks his head to the side, glances to Kakashi, looks at her, nods. The breath she'd been holding is exhaled slowly, and her own expression attempts to mirror her comrade's. It is strained, at best, fragile.

It's only fitting, however, because Team 7 is at its breaking point, too.

The blond had begun speaking as they walked along, arms waving animatedly, and their masked sensei is pretending to be absorbed in his book while, perhaps, listening attentively. She makes all the appropriate noises at the right moments, and her strained smile never wavers, even despite the constant concerned glances in her direction.

They finally reach their destination, a break in the trees that slopes down to one of the land's many rivers, and Sakura continues to smile. Her orange-clad friend drops to the grass and quickly makes himself comfortable, while her sensei is slightly more graceful about it. She kneels next to them, smiles.

Her gaze is soon drawn away from furrowed brows and up, up, up to the night sky and the endless canvas of lights. The blond sighs, and she can imagine the frown marring his tanned countenance. The air in her lungs prepares to do the same, but she slowly exhales it as any other breath. Smiles.

She hears rustling and only then graces the boy with her attention. Upon spotting the familiar, scratched metal, her chest constricts, throbs. She inhales, exhales. Smiles.

He slowly rubs his thumb over the metal plate, blue eyes dark with infinite sadness even with the thousands of stars illuminating them so. Her green gaze moves on to her sensei, lying on his back, book covering his face, feigning sleep. Always pretending.

Her eyes comb greedily over the two of them, finding solace in such a peaceful (if solemn) sight, and she smiles, smiles, smiles.

Their team had fallen to pieces, yes, but she thinks, with only a touch of melancholy and overwhelming fondness, they were never a perfect fit to begin with.

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**A/N: ****This is so random, but my need to write angst is too great. Naruto is kind of my current muse, so here we are. Obviously my other stories will take priority over this, but little 'drabbles' such as these are much easier to write. I don't withhold anything I've written if it's ready for posting, so updates will probably be rapid.  
**

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	2. Drowning, Endings, Freedom

**D is for Drowning (because he is out of his _depth_.)**

_His hand rises from its default position of its own accord, fingers stretched out, reaching..._

He could do something about it if he wanted to.

He could lower his shields, drop the act, and pull them close, all the while murmuring nonsensical anecdotes and reassurances. He could speak of his own past and reveal how he cannot only sympathize, but _empathize_ with them, having lost so many of his own precious people. He could regale them with tales of Team Minato's antics, could give the boy the information he so desperately desires**—**that of his parents, of his lineage, of the _love_ he has been denied for so long but that has always been. He could tell them _both_.

He can _see_ himself doing so, nonchalantly asking them to stay a few moments longer after practice with the promise of important information. He can easily envision the skepticism on both of their faces, can hear the boy's obnoxious inquiries and the girl's wary approach. He can imagine himself eye-smiling at them before the facade breaks, and he leaves himself—his very being, his heart and soul**—**bare.

What reactions they would have. Shock. Disbelief. Anger. Pity._ Gratitude._

_...he hesitates, and the moment is gone. His hand falls to his side as their silhouettes fade in the distance._

It is because of the last possibility (and perhaps even the second-to-last as well) that he cannot bring himself to disclose anything.

He could if he wanted to.

_He turns around, slowly, and treads a different path, one leading to comrades who aren't in any position to feel anything undeserving toward a murderer._

He doesn't want to.

**E is for Endings (because everything must come to an _end_.)**

_It doesn't have to be like this_, his conscience pleads of him, desperately.

_He was out of your reach the moment he stepped foot out of this village, _his logic informs him, neutrally.

_This was always going to end in death_, his heart declares, not coldly but knowingly.

His ocean blue gaze meets obsidian, and Naruto doesn't need any of these voices to tell him something so infuriatingly simple. If he lets himself think back to all of their interactions, all of their altercations, all of their conversations, he can admit to himself that he's always known. The two of them had been within Death's pale clutches since the beginning, when two children found a distant comfort in mutual loss. Or maybe their fates had been sealed even before then, when his parents had sacrificed themselves and their son for a future Naruto is certain he will never see.

He can see, now, however, that his words will not break through his teammate's haze of misguided hatred and vengeance, not like all of the others, not even like Zabuza or Nagato. It's ironic, really, that the only person he's ever wanted to truly connect with is also the only one immune to this strange ability of his. Ironic. Sad. Not entirely unexpected.

In his heart of hearts, he realizes what must be done, and he can only hope that Sakura-chan will forgive him his (for once) empty words.

Sasuke-teme won't be coming back to the village.

...and neither will he.

**F is for Freedom (because even he can't ignore the _yearning_.)**

Free will. Free choice. Free_dom_. Free. Free. _Free._

It calls to him, quietly, anxiously, urgently, that bellowing wind with its feather-light caresses and just as light-hearted promises. _Come, my child_, It whispers, and Sasuke finds himself hard-pressed not to give into such temptation.

His will cannot be broken by such trifles, however; thus, he continues to be tethered down by his ambition, his vengeance, his duty to the village. The list extends as far as the wind reaches, over the trees and hills and beyond. His wings have been clipped since his Clan went down in flames, and Sasuke cannot be bothered to regrow them, not when his thirst for bloodshed overpowers the wind's gentle beckoning so.

He doesn't notice the weight on his shoulders, the slights on his progress, until he is shown just how far he has fallen by his closest friend, until he witnesses how he can rise again by a powerful stranger and a curse. Relinquishing the binds that hold him is easy enough; exchanging them, more so. Now that he has tasted life without such meaningless ties, he will not be dragged down by such inane things again.

Some time later, when he is free of his Sannin teacher, of his brother's machinations, of any bound duty other than his own—the destruction of the Leaf Village—he gladly embraces the mistress of the skies with _no_ amount of hesitation or uncertainty, relishing all that he has been denied. (Is it any wonder his summons are animals of this element?)

All too soon, he will be headed by yet another stranger using him for his own gain, bound on a silver chain, but as of now, he cherishes the ruffling of his obsidian mane, this overwhelming sense of _freedom,_ and he is content._  
_

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**A/N: Silly Sasuke. Your chakra affinity is lightning. (Or fire. Eh.)**

**Thanks to **it makes sense in context**,** Lonely Athena**,** Nyx'sWings**, and** Haipa Ookami **for reviewing and/or following!**

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	3. Growth

**G is for Growth (because it happens to the best of us.)**

_Kakashi_

He thinks he's reached it, a higher mentality, an understanding of the world and the way that it works, when his father disgraces their family name and then carelessly leaves him to clean up the mess. There's always a lesson to be learned when concerning mistakes, he knows, and so he realizes that rules are _not_, in fact, made to be broken but to be strictly adhered to. The consequences of not doing so were made quite clear.

The world isn't done with him, however, and it takes the death of his precious teammate to make him realize that rules aren't everything and that there are some things worth protecting, no matter the cost. He vows to protect his remaining comrade and to never make the same mistake again.

Except he _does_ make the same mistake again and fails in protecting Rin while he's at it, thereby breaking both vows to his _other_ deceased comrade. The whole thing comes full circle when it's his own hand snuffing out the life of his precious person because _of course_ Kakashi will always be a failure. He grieves and rages and makes no more vows, but he does resolve to become strong enough to protect the _village_. Surely he can't screw _this_ up?

But then _of course_ he does because _of course_ his beloved sensei is the one who sacrifices his own life for the village while Kakashi sits on the sidelines and accomplishes _nothing_. By this time, there's nothing _left_ inside of him to break into a million pieces at the loss of his last important person, and Kakashi finally realizes his oversight from the very beginning. The universe hadn't been pushing him to become stronger to protect anyone else; it had been warning him that creating any such fragile bonds would only result in _deathlossgriefturmoil_.

Growth for Kakashi begins and ends in death, and he convinces himself that avoiding his sensei's son is the _best_ he can do.

_Sakura_

She isn't born with a haughty demeanor and a penchant for violence (especially toward Naruto); such things develop over time. The timid, bullied little girl transforms into a bossy, delusional fangirl, who honestly believes a life of murder and espionage is her calling, despite her childish understanding of the world and the people in it.

The mission to Wave is a rude wake-up call to her in terms of usefulness, and her only defense is that she's better than the dead-last, never mind the fact that the bridge was named after him. She's more intelligent, isn't she? And the boy is smitten with her, the way she is certain Sasuke-kun will be when he finally, really looks at her.

The harshness of reality doesn't douse her with its chilling truth until her team is hunted and beaten and battered in that godforsaken forest, and she decides that, for once, she _won't_ fall to the sidelines and let her boys down. It's _her_ turn to save them this time, and she _won't_ let her fears or exhaustion get in the way.

But it isn't until Sasuke leaves (_abandons_) her without a second thought that she truly begins to see.

Her growth is less like a flower blooming and more like an ink pot falling over, spilling out every little nuance and observation she'd made but hadn't wanted to face over the years, and she spends the next two catching up to her hot-headed teammates.

_Naruto_

Even after two years of separation, he is easily angered and quick to speak his mind. He has a way with people, a natural understanding of the human mind and emotions. Cold logic and reasoning fall on deaf ears, and _he_ reasons that the most important things in life _should_ be simple. To him, they are. Protect what's precious. Train so that he _can_.

The ruthless murder of Pervy Sage _by his own former students_ is enough to make him question his stance on _everything_, and when the Leaf Village (and everyone in it) are obliterated, he is hard pressed not to simply toss his morals to the side in favor of exacting his own revenge. He _would have_ were it not for his father. Peace is an intangible, seemingly unreachable thing. He doesn't even know where to begin or how, but he means every word he speaks. He won't ever give up.

Thus, Sasuke's quest for vengeance isn't completely lost on him but the decision to run with his tail between his legs to that snake bastard is. His resolve to bring his stubborn friend back is not to be scoffed at, but it's not until after he's been exposed to Nagato's tale and the deadened gaze of his childhood friend that his inner strength truly shows.

Naruto's growth is nearly imperceptible but certainly simple, and the fact that the decision to end Sasuke's suffering along with his own is surprising... isn't really surprising at all.

_Sasuke_

His path may stray, and he make take detours along the way. However, his growth isn't really growth at all, merely a never ending cycle of hatred and vengeance; his bloodied hands reveal as much. The Uchiha are cursed, after all.

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**A/N: There's only one letter this time because why not? Anyway, sorry this seems more 'I'm telling you what happened' rather than actual 'story' writing. I wanted this to be much... better? Regardless, I hope you enjoyed.**

**Thanks to** Lonely Athena **for reviewing!**

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